Chapter Twenty-One
Tyler
I ran up the steps to Scott’s law offices, my heart pounding. Hannah had called the dealership directly, her words spilling in a rush.
Elizabeth Hall.
Off-Record.
A video.
Jase.
There'd been no question about me going to him. I hadn't told my boss what was up, just yelled that I had an emergency with my husband and I was leaving. The handful of blocks between work and Scott's never seemed so long.
I burst into the lobby, completely unconcerned that I was in someone's business. The only thing that mattered was Jase. Hannah came running as the door slammed shut behind me, face set in lines of concern, a hand outstretched to take one of mine. Her fingers burned hot, or maybe mine were like ice.
“I'm pretty sure he had a panic attack.” She tugged me toward Scott's office, her voice low. “He didn't want me to call 911 but his chest hurts.”
That bitch had one coming for this. If I got my hands on her . . .
I skidded to a stop at the door. Face in his hands, Jase learned forward in the same chair I’d occupied only a few days before, Scott sat in the chair next to him, a hand on Jase’s shoulder. His tall body heaved with uneven breaths.
Oh, she needed a beatdown for real.
Later, though. Jase came first.
Shaking off the shocked paralysis, I rushed forward to kneel at his feet. “Jase.”
I touched his cheek above his hand, and he flinched, a violent recoil. He didn’t raise his head, but pressed his fingers harder against his face.
That . . .
I didn’t have a word strong enough. He was a good man, and he’d loved her. He’d trusted her, and she did this because she was mad? Because life didn’t work out like she wanted.
That spoiled little girl.
I curled my palms around my knees when I ached to touch him, because obviously he didn’t want that.
Scott brushed my shoulder then pushed to his feet, the door closing softly behind him. On the mantel, a clock ticked. Jase’s shoulders heaved, his breaths labored.
My chest ached. I folded a hand over our baby.
“She . . .” His voice was thick, choked, even muffled by his hands. “You’re gonna see that.”
“No.” I reached for his knee and pulled my hand back. “No, I’m not.”
A rough scoff rumbled from his throat, angry and ugly. “My mama’s gonna see it—“
“No.” I shook my head, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “She won’t.”
“Every-fucking-body is going to see it.” Fury rolled off him in waves, his voice raw with panic and fear. “And . . . and . . .”
He lunged for the trash can by his feet, vomiting.
I cringed at the raw sounds, the pain and dry heaves buckling his body.
I dared to brush the edge of his hair at his nape, and this time he didn't flinch away.
Holding the wastebasket with shaking hands, he gulped in ragged breaths.
I ran the softest of touches along his hair.
He lifted his head, finally looking at me, his blue eyes dull.
Blank.
Shattered.
My breath hitched. I'd always seen him steady, sure, centered, even when he'd told me of her pregnancy and I'd walked out.
Now... he was broken.
The edges of my vision darkened, white noise dancing over my eyes, buzzing at my ears. I forced in a breath, forcing down the urge to storm out, find her, break her the way she deserved.
That impulse wouldn't serve him. Wouldn't serve us.
As badly as I wanted to frame his face and drape myself around him, I allowed myself only that light touch at his hairline, the simple touch he seemed able to tolerate.
“Jase,“ I whispered, holding his red- rimmed gaze, “you didn't ask for this.”
His throat bobbed with a hard swallow.
“You didn't deserve this.”
With shaking hands, he set the trash can between his feet. On a hushed exhale, he laid his hands on his knees, fingers moving in a restless rhythm.
“I'm here,“ I stroked along an inch of skin, looking deep into his eyes, seeking my Jase. If I despised her before, I hated her now. “I love you and I'm here.”
His eyes filled, and his mouth trembled before he clamped his jaw. I blinked, eyes burning.
She would pay for this. I didn’t know how yet, but she would pay.
And that baby? She didn’t need to be raising that child.
“Can I, um . . .” I moistened my bottom lip, heart thudding. “Can I please hug you?”
His face crumpled, and this time he lunged for me, arms around me, crushing me to him.
I wrapped myself around him, stroking his hair. Eyes closed, I held him tight and kissed his damp face.
“I love you, Jase,” I whispered, as fiercely as Mama Nancy had once whispered I was safe with her. I wanted him to feel as secure with me as I’d been with her. “I love you, and I’m here.”
“Okay, so let’s talk about the legalities.” Scott pulled his chair around the desk to sit close to us, legal pad balanced on his knee.
In the leather chair next to Jase, I held both his hands with mine, covering his cold skin with as much warmth as I could.
Scott’s pen hovered over yellow paper. “Did you know the video existed?”
“No.” Jase’s denial emerged, raw, hoarse.
“You give her permission to post videos of you?”
He tensed, knuckles flexing under my palm.
“I signed a release,” he grated, skin pale around his mouth.
Scott looked up, a slight scowl drawing his brows. “Have an electronic copy you can email me?”
With slow, jerky movements, Jase pulled his hand from beneath mine and tugged his phone from his pocket. Pulling up his email app, he scrolled, tapped, then handed his phone over to Scott.
Silence stretched, punctuated by our breathing as Scott frowned over the screen. Finally, he passed the device back. Jase gripped it, knuckles white.
“This today is not covered by that,“ Scott flicked a dismissive finger at Jase's phone. “What she's done today is revenge porn–”
Jase winced. I squeezed his hand under mine.
“--and has serious consequences in Georgia. You don't have to decide now, but I can help you if you want to report--“
“I want to.” Jase's voice hardened, and he rotated his hand to link our fingers. He glanced sideways at me. “Everybody's gonna see it anyway. Her doing this? That's wrong. I'm not owning that for her.”
“Okay.” Scott nodded. “I'll make a call and get someone over here.”
He didn't get just someone – the local chief of police, only a few years older than Jase, someone he knew and trusted, showed up with the investigator.
I clung to Jase's hand while they asked questions, collected screenshots, and took his statement. More than an hour later, they left, Scott walking them out after the chief promised they'd be in touch.
Jase stared down at the business card in his hand, turning it over and over between his fingers.
I caressed his forearm, and he covered my hand with his.
“What do you need?” I whispered.
His lashes fell. “I have to tell them.”
I didn't have to ask who he meant – his parents and grandparents.
A rough half-sob shuddered up from his chest. “And I really want Daddy and Grandaddy.”
“Okay.” “I stroked his temple, and he leaned into my touch. I brushed a kiss over his jaw, fumbling for my phone. “I'll call them for you and ask them to meet us. Let’s get you home.”